The Best Deserves The Best
by emlb
Summary: Hermione Granger quits as Oliver Wood's PR Guru. But Oliver won't take this sitting down. After all, the best deserves the best...  Rated T for some colourful language.
1. Chapter 1

The click of Hermione's sensible shoes echoed from the walls of the dimly lit corridor. She walked quickly wanting to get this meeting out of the way as quickly as possible. Her job as a PR hardly ever required her to make visits; usually it was just Floo calls, or meetings in her office. But this particular client was especially awkward and claimed that due to his busy schedule, the only time he could meet was straight after his Quidditch practice, in the changing rooms. Much to her dismay.

She stopped at the door to the locker rooms, straightened out her grey suit and patted her hair to assure that it was still in its neat bun. Hermione took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

'Hello?' she called. 'Oliver? It's Hermione. I'm here to talk about your...predicament.'

She entered the changing rooms fully and marched into the centre of the room. She heard the sounds of the shower and sighed. Of course he was in the shower. Hermione wondered if he was purposefully trying to make this encounter difficult. She sighed and strode over to the shower, trying to steer clear of the steam.

'Mr Wood?' No answer.

'Mr Wood!' Still no answer. She was beginning to get rather frustrated.

'MR WOOD!' Her shout echoed of the walls.

She heard the squeak of the tap and Oliver popped his head out of the cubicle.

'Ah! Hermione! Ah' was wonderin' when ya' were gonna show up!' He grinned, Hermione grimaced. 'Let me jus' get a towel an' ah'll be righ' with ya' lass!'

For some reason, his Scottish accent grated on Hermione's nerves.

'If you could please hurry, Mr Wood. I have other commitments to attend to.' She whirled and marched back to the centre of the room. She was tempted to sit on the benches but decided against it. It wouldn't do to get her suit muddy.

'Ah! Ah'm feelin' much better now. Ah' love a good shower after a hard Quidditch practice." Oliver Wood strode confidently towards Hermione in nothing but a towel hanging loosely around his hips. Hermione's eyes grew wide as she took in his body. His shoulders were wide and his arms were big and muscled and he had ridiculously toned abs. He even had that sexy 'V' disappearing beneath the towel, something only truly dedicated athletes were ever blessed with. Hermione rather thought a body this amazing should be made illegal.

Oliver cleared his throat and smirked. Hermione jumped, well aware that her gaze had lingered for far too long, and tore her eyes to his face, a blush burning across her cheeks,

She cleared her throat.

'Listen Mr Wood, I am a very busy woman, and I have an appointment scheduled with Ginny Weasley in...' she glanced at her watch. '…half an hour. So please, we need to discuss _this_.' She reached into her handbag and pulled out today's copy of The Daily Prophet. She slapped it on the bench, looking at the offending article with a look a pure disgust.

The front page showed a picture of Oliver 'cavorting' with a very young looking fan girl outside of the famous wizarding nightclub, Cauldrons and Wands. The young girl had bleach blond hair, bright red lips and her clothing left little to the imagination. Oliver sighed and sat on the bench.

'Ah, right. Tha'...' he rubbed his hand over his face.

Hermione looked at him pointedly. She pointed to the newspaper and shook her head.

'Well? What the bloody hell is this Wood? Merlin! My job is hard enough as it is, without you cavorting with witches in public - who look dangerously young by the way! What am I supposed to do about this?' She ranted shaking an accusatory finger between Oliver and the newspaper. It wasn't the first time Oliver Wood had found himself in a messy situation, and relying completely on Hermione to clean up after him. She was about ready to burst. Hermione was absolutely sick of doing this. After all, Oliver was not her only client, she had other responsibilities! 'Come on, Wood! How many times have we had this conversation? You say 'Acgh! Ah' shan't do it again!' and I say 'Okay Mr Wood'. And then the next bloody day I pick up a paper and there you are, with another bimbo.'

Oliver glanced up, his mouth slightly agape. If she wasn't so furious, Hermione may have found this quite endearing.

'Wha' are ya' talkin' about? This is yer job after all! I make the mistakes; you fix 'em.' He was beginning to worry. If Hermione quit, he'd be royally screwed. She was the best PR Guru around. And with the messes he got himself into, he thought glancing down at the paper, he needed the best.

'_This_!' Hermione shrieked, snatching up the paper and waving it in Oliver's face. 'This is not my job! My job is to worry about your public image! Not to allow you to sleep with every Tom, Dick and Harry and then cover it up for you! Merlin, Oliver! You're a bloody superstar! The press can manage to dig up enough dirt by themselves, but you, _you, _just hand it to them on a silver bloody platter!'

Once her second mini-rant of the day (although Oliver would hardly call _that _mini) was over, Hermione took a deep breath and raised a shaky hand to her forehead. She suddenly had a pulsing headache.

Oliver thought it was high time to put her at ease. After all, this wasn't the first time Hermione had screamed and shouted at him; however it was the first time she had threatened to quit...

'Listen, this is nought!' Oliver stammered, hurriedly. 'And ah' swear after this ah'm not gonna get into messes! Ah' swear ta' ya'!'

Hermione shook her head and sat next to him. She put her head in her hands and heaved a weary sigh. 'I'm sorry, Mr Wood. But I can't do this anymore.' She whispered, so quietly Oliver had to strain to hear her. 'I'm afraid you're going to have to find a new PR. I'll stay until you find a new one, of course, but this is it. I spend more time working on your life than my own. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go.'

Oliver watched as Hermione stood up and left the locker rooms. Now he was screwed

**A/N: This happens to be the very first fanfic I have ever posted *cheers*.**

**Please, just review it! I really want to know whether this story is worth continuing.**

**Srsly though guys, I'm nervous, so be nice! (:**

**Oh and I'll apologise now for Oliver's accent. I think this is Scottish, but I'm not too sure (which is terrible, since I live in Britain and should know the accents by now).**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I'm secretly J.K. Rowling. LOL JK, I'm not rich.**

'So you just quit? Just like that?'

Hermione was now sat in a little muggle café in the centre of London with her best girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, drinking coffee. They had met to discuss ways of boosting Ginny's public image as a Quidditch player, or so they claimed. Really, they just met to have a good old gossip and a catch-up. They usually just saved business talks for the Floo.

Hermione had just finished regaling her tale of how she stood up to Oliver Wood (finally), and had quit. Although she had neglected to tell Ginny that she hadn't actually quit just yet.

'Yes!' Hermione stated proudly. 'Aren't you proud of me? You told me to stand up to him and I did!'

However, her best friend did not look proud. In fact, she looked rather suspicious, her eyes were narrowed and she drummed her fingers on the table top. She kept her gaze on Hermione for what seemed like hours. Hermione started to fidget.

'I don't believe you.' She said finally, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Ginny held up a perfectly manicured hand. 'The Hermione I know would not toss a helpless Oliver Wood out to the dogs like that. You're lying, and I'm sure of it.'

Hermione, stalling for time, took a long sip of her coffee, and glanced at the other customers in the café. It was a wizarding establishment, so they didn't have to worry too much about who heard their conversations. Hermione would only ever take Ginny to wizarding places, as her friend had the tendency to explode.

Well, I didn't exactly 'toss him to dogs', as you so elegantly put it. But I did quit.' Hermione said shooting a glare at Ginny, although it didnt have the same effect, as now she didn't sound so sure of herself.

Ginny arched an eyebrow, and Hermione oddly reminded of Malfoy, knew she wasn't fooling anybody.

'Mione, that makes absolutely no sense. I saw the papers this morning, and Oliver was definitely in a pile of deep-' 'Don't swear Ginny' '..._poop_. So if you claimed to have quit, then you would have, in fact, 'tossed him to the dogs'. So please, explain, I am intrigued as to how you are going to justify this one.' Ginny finished, with a smirk. Hermione could feel one of Ginny's episodes coming on.

'Okay. So I didn't _exactly_ quit_…'_

'I BLOODY WELL KNEW IT!' Ginny exclaimed, jumping from her seat and earning some confused looks from other customers. To magical folk or muggles, Hermione supposed Ginny just seemed strange. 'You're staying on aren't you? I'll bet my broomstick that you are!'

'Merlin, Ginny! Sit down and shut up! You're making a scene!' Hermione hissed, sending apologetic smiles to the other customers.

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest again and sat down in a huff. Hermione was really getting on her last nerve.

It was through Ginny that Hermione had become Oliver's PR Guru, they played on the same team, Puddlemere, and after Ginny saw the slander the press was giving him, she recommended the family friend to Hermione.

After introducing them, Ginny had felt rather pleased with herself. After all, Hermione was like her sister and Oliver was close friend of Fred and Georges'. She felt that she was doing both of them a huge favour, giving Hermione work and giving Oliver a fantastic PR Guru. But then Oliver went completely insane, and refused to stop being a prat - even after the many 'Mrs Weasley' talking-to's Ginny had given him - and it was all taking it's toll on poor Hermione, and Ginny wasn't the only one to notice.

Three nights ago, Ginny had recieved a late night visit from Harry and Ron. They looked rather furious. Harry was upset that Hermione was screening his Floo calls, not showing up for their weekly lunches and not answering his owls. He knew something was wrong and he wanted to know exactly what that something was. Even Ron, _Ron_, the most unobservant person on the face of the earth, had noticed that Hermione was becoming obsessive in her work, well at least more than whats was usual.

Ginny felt responsible for the whole mess and was determined to fix it. However, she soon was reminded that Hermione had no backbone when it came to letting people down, and that made Ginny feel even worse. _Damn Hermione and stupid bloody morals!_ Ginny thought.

'Yes, Gin. I am still working for him, but it's only temporary. It's just until he can find someone else, I promise! I couldn't just leave him in a sinking ship.' Hermione looked determined that she had done the right thing.

'Okay Mione. But as long as it's only temporary! I'm deadly serious, if he doesn't find someone soon, I'll hex his bloody balls off. At least then he can't shag around and no has to read about his drunken debaucheries. Problem solved!' Ginny said, rather chirpily.

Hermione couldn't help it; she burst into giggles at that.

'Well, I don't think it matters too much,' Hermione said, between laughs. 'After all he is Oliver Wood. He'll have a new PR by Monday.'

* * *

'She just up and quit on you? I don't believe you!'

Oliver sat in the Leaky Cauldron with two long-time best friends, Fred and George Weasley. He was trying to explain to them how Hermione had just left him high and dry, but was having trouble of convincing them...which wasn't surprising, as it wasn't exactly true.

'Yeh! She jus' up an' left! No thankya's, nothin'! I got half a mind ta' sue! I think she's on a contract...' Oliver trailed off, trying to remember if they ever made her sign a contract. He rather hoped she had.

Fred and George exchanged one look and shook their heads. They knew Hermione well, and they knew she would never dream of doing that to Oliver, no matter how much of a git he was.

'So, what are you going to do now then?' Fred asked, rather distractedly. His attention was otherwise occupied on the busty barmaid. 'Have you found a new PR yet?'

Oliver took a big gulp from his fire whiskey, wincing slightly as it burned down his throat. Contrary to popular belief, Oliver Wood didn't really enjoy drinking. In his opinion, alcohol tasted quite foul really, but you needed alcohol to get drunk, and Oliver loved being drunk. It was a vicious cycle.

He glanced up at the Weasley twins, unable to tell which was which, and grimaced. Both were staring at the barmaid, practically drooling, whilst Oliver was having a crisis!

'Well!' Oliver said, rather suddenly, wrenching their attention back to him, where it should be. 'Ah' haven't exactly found a new PR jus' yet. But, Ah' dinnae need ta' worry about tha' at the moment'

As soon as he said it, Oliver knew she shouldn't have. He glanced at the twins' identical expressions and cringed slightly. They were smirking at him, eyebrows raised in a way that clearly said 'Oh _really_?'

'And pray tell, Oliver, _why _exactly aren't you worrying?' George said, placing his head on his hands in mock interest.

'Oh brother mine, I do believe you just took the words out of my mouth!' Fred said, mirroring his brother's position to a tee. 'Please explain Ollie. We are intrigued.'

Oliver was silent for a moment. Of course part of him was hoping that they'd forget about this and turn their attention back to the barmaid, who was now winking and waggling her fingers in their direction. However Oliver already knew he had no such luck.

He sighed dramatically, took another gulp of his drink and turned his attention to the twins.

'She did quit!' He started, narrowing his eyes at the both of them. 'But she's goin' ta' stay so Ah' can find a new PR.'

Fred and George laughed.

'We already knew this, of course. Our 'Mione would never do that to anyone.' George said, turning his head back to the barmaid, looking far too impressed with himself.

'Yeah,' Fred continued, laughing. 'She felt bad dumping Ron because he didn't have another girlfriend, for crying out loud!'

'Well, tha' wee lass had caused a bit of a problem. Ah' dinnae wan' her to quit, so she's not gunna'. Ah jus' need a plan, ta get the lass back!' Oliver said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

'Why can't you just find a new PR, Ollie?' Fred asked, looking slightly annoyed. 'Your Oliver-Bloody-Wood, it's not like you're going to have a problem finding someone else. Am I right Georgie?'

Oliver and Fred turned to George to get his opinion on the matter, but George was now up at the bar. Telling from the blushes and giggles coming from the woman at the bar, he was quite obviously chatting her up.

'Dammit!' Fred muttered, punching his fist on the table lightly. 'That sneaky bastard!'

Oliver cleared his throat, and Fred glanced at him.

'Oh right, yeah. Your problem.' He said, scratching his head. 'Listen Ollie. You're one of my best mates, but you really are being a right prat. Just find a new PR and let Hermione quit.' He shrugged, as if he had just settled the matter. However Oliver did not agree.

'Ah' dinnae want some other PR! Hermione is the best bloody PR goin' right now! An' the best,' Oliver said, signalling to himself. 'Deserves the best.'

With that, he downed the rest of his drink and stumbled to join George at the bar. Fred shook his head and sighed. What a bloody fool, he thought.

* * *

**A/N: I found this chapter quite difficult to write, I kept going through it trying to spot mistakes that I am sure to find now that I've posted it. Is anyone interesting in betaing this story? If so PM me (:**

**I really enjoyed writing Ginny in this chapter, the twins, though, not so much. No matter how many times I change it, they seem really OOC to me.**

**I'm sorry for it being so short! I had a basic outline for this chapter and didn't have much time to expand it.**

**Oh and, please review! (:**

**Banz x  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

Since Oliver had been given his first broom at the age of five, his entire life had been devoted to Quidditch. His parents, well his mother, had always pushed him to be the best keeper he could. Every present he ever received was Quidditch related and every extra Knut she earned went towards Oliver's Quidditch career. So it wasn't a surprise when he became the keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It was also no surprise when he became captain of said team. It was just as unsurprising when he finished school, he and was selected to play for the best Quidditch team in England, Puddlemere United. When he became captain of Puddlemere, still nobody was surprised, not even Oliver. He was proud, yes, and so was his mother. But he knew he was the best so it was really something that was just expected to happen.

Throughout school Oliver had spent his days devoting himself to his team. At the time he didn't mind that he was missing out on normal school experiences such as making close friends or dating. Oliver was only concerned about one thing; being the best. He trained hard and trained his team hard. He had made damn sure that any scout watching him play would be blown away. So when he graduated from school and became captain of Puddlemere United, he realized he had achieved his dream. He had worked hard, and was finally reaping the rewards; he was captain of the best team in the Quidditch league meaning he was finally the very best of the lot.

When he had dreamed about finally achieving his dream Oliver didn't think he would feel the way he felt. Instead of feeling elated and proud and on top of the world he felt lost; he had no idea what he was going to do now. What did one do when he finally accomplished his life goals? What did a driven young man do when he had nothing to drive him? Oliver was the type of person who set goals, and didn't stop until he had achieved them. But he had never, in his whole life, been in a position where he had nothing to achieve, nothing to prove. So he did the only thing he could think of, and that was the one thing he had never done in his life. He celebrated.

And then he didn't stop celebrating.

He would spend all night on the town partying, he'd drink himself silly, get in countless fights and at the end of the night he would take a different woman home. And this was a routine he abided by nearly every day.

Of course it wasn't the healthiest lifestyle, but it was one he enjoyed.

Previously he wasn't bothered about the media trailing his every move and documenting each minute of his life, because he had Hermione Granger to fix it. She was the very best at her job, and Oliver, being the best himself, needed the best. His crazy lifestyle required the best. If he didn't have Hermione, he was going to be slaughtered by the media.

The thing was he wasn't ready to give up his party lifestyle. He wasn't ready to hang up his dancing shoes, and retreat into a quiet life. That just wasn't Oliver. The partying, the alcohol, the fights and the women had all been ways to distract Oliver from his need to achieve. Without them, he was sure he would go insane.

So there was really only one simple conclusion. He was to set himself a new goal. And he had already come up with the perfect goal.

No matter what it took, he was determined to get Hermione back. There were witches out there who would kill to be in Hermione Jane Granger's shoes! She was in regular contact with Oliver Wood! She was one of the very few witches who had access to his bloody Floo network! So why on earth was she throwing it away?

Well, he'd show her!

* * *

_Thump. Thump. Thump. _

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Hermione awoke on Saturday morning to tapping against her bedroom window. She glanced at her clock. It was 7.30 am. Who would send her an owl this early on her day off? She tried to roll over and shove a pillow over her head to drown out the noise. This did not work because instead of dropping the letter on her window sill, the owl continued to peck at her window, if anything, _harder_.

She buried her head deeper within her pillows, desperately wishing this wretched creature would hurry up and take the hint, she was beginning to get very agitated.

Suddenly, the noise ceased. Hermione smiled sleepily and relaxed back into her bed. She had almost slipped back into a slumber when the owl _screeched_. She jumped about a foot in the air, threw her covers off of herself, and stormed over to the window.

"Stupid bloody owl!" she murmured, straining to hoist the window open. "If you think I'm giving you a treat you've got another thing coming!"

She snatched the letter off of the bird's leg and retreated back to bed. She didn't bother snuggling back in knowing, now she was awake, she was staying awake. She looked at the envelope. It was simply addressed "Hermione". She shrugged, and tore the letter open."

"_Morning, Hermione! _

_Now, I know it's early but Fred and George told me you were an early riser anyway._

_Listen, I've had absolutely no luck finding a new PR, and I was wondering if you could swing by the Quidditch Stadium this morning and we could discuss my options? If you could come by as soon as possible, I'd be grateful._

_Oliver. _

_P.S - Sorry about the owl. I told her not to leave until you received the letter.__"_

Hermione glanced at the window, and sure enough, that bloody owl was still there. She directed a particularly mean scowl at it and it ruffled its' feathers indignantly and took flight.

When she told Oliver she was quitting, she had been rather upset. She honestly hadn't wanted to quit in fact sometimes working for Oliver was quite a hoot. But she had to give him up as a client. She was so immersed in his life, it was becoming rather unhealthy. Oliver had gotten himself into some pretty sticky situations, and sometimes it would take days for Hermione to smooth it all over - days in which she'd skip meals, and stay up until odd hours of the morning. It wasn't Oliver's fault; it was just how Hermione worked.

Oliver was really the only client Hermione had any trouble with, aside from the odd spat with Ginny, but she had expected that when she had taken Ginny on. When she was hired by Oliver, Hermione really thought he would be easy. After all, back then Oliver was devoted to Quidditch; he simply didn't have time for anything else. And, for the first couple of months, working for Oliver had been like getting money for free. The biggest problems she had back then were the press delving into his past, which was far from pretty. But since he gained captaincy of Puddlemere United, things had gone downhill.

It was as if Oliver had gone insane over night, and on more than one occasion Hermione had seriously considered admitting him to St Mungo's Psychiatric Ward. She just didn't understand how someone could change so completely in one night. It didn't make sense.

Well, she most definitely was not going to go to the Quidditch stadium today. It was her day off and Oliver wasn't even her client anymore!

Hermione rolled off of her bed and opened up her wardrobe. She was only getting changed because she was up now, and she always got dressed in the mornings. It had absolutely nothing to do with going to the Quidditch stadium, because she wasn't going. She glanced at her mirror and decided that maybe she should tame her hair. It was most definitely not because she wanted to meet Oliver, she just wanted to do her hair, it was perfectly normal.

When Hermione caught herself dabbing mascara on her lashes she decided to give up, and just admit that she was going to see him. Of course she was going, after all she was still Oliver's PR and it was her job.

"Even if it _is _Saturday," she mumbled, grumpily.

* * *

Oliver was pacing.

He knew he was pacing, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. It was an annoying habit that he acquired from his father, possibly the _only _thing he ever received from his father. He was pacing because he was anxious. He wanted, no he _needed,_ Hermione to show up. It was all part of his fool proof plan.

Step One: Convince Hermione he could change and that his party-animal days were well and truly over.

Step Two: …well, there wasn't really a step two, but he decided he could always wing it. So not _exactly _fool proof.

It wasn't that he was concerned she wouldn't show - in fact he was absolutely certain she would show - he was concerned because he wasn't quite sure _how _to convince Hermione he could change. His plan didn't exactly go into detail. In fact, now he thought of it, his plan wasn't really a plan at all.

"WOOD!" his coach's sharp bark tore him out of his trance and ceased his pacing.

"Aye, Coach?"

"Stop your bloody dilly dallying! We've got practice! And going by your recent keeping, or lack thereof, you bloody well need it!"

There were a few sniggers from his fellow team mates; however there was one bark of laughter that echoed off of the walls. Ginny Weasley was all but slapping her knee.

"Weasley!" Ginny's laughter stopped immediately. "I don't know what you're laughing about! You dropped the bloody Quaffle last season!"

It was Oliver's turn to laugh, as Ginny's face went as red as her fiery hair. She stammered out her apologies and then made a hasty retreat out to the pitch. The rest of the team followed her out with their coach hot on their heels.

"COME ON YOU BUNCH OF PANSYS! IT'S NOT THAT HARD!"

"YOU FLY LIKE WOMEN!"

"I am a woman, Coach."

"SHUT UP, WEASLEY!"

"THE SNITCH JUST FLEW RIGHT BY YOUR HEAD, DONOVAN! DID YOU LEAVE YOUR GLASSES AT HOME OR SOME THING?"

"MY NAN FLIES BETTER THAN YOU LOT AND SHES NINETY SEVEN!"

The screams from their coach echoed around the stadium, as the Puddlemere team lugged through another early morning practice. Any athlete could tell you that training was utterly laborious and it was with a collective sigh of relief when their coach dismissed them for a five minute break.

Most of the players, including Ginny, hurtled to the ground and collapsed where they landed, totally exhausted. However, when Oliver landed, he rushed back to the changing rooms, hoping that Hermione had turned up during practice.

He burst into the changing rooms and thankfully found Hermione hovering by the lockers. He heaved himself to the benches and sank down, dropping his broom in the process.

"Alright lass!" he said, surprising himself at the cheery tone. "Take a seat." And he patted the bench next to him.

Hermione inched her way closer and then gave the seat a rather disgusted look. "I'd rather not." She said slowly.

"No problem. Ah' suppose it is a bit muddy, aye?" He smiled up at her.

There was an awkward silence after that. Hermione, unsure of why she was even present, kept throwing longing glances at the exit. Oliver, however, was just unsure of what he was supposed to do now she was here.

What felt like hours passed until Hermione, unable to bear the tension, broke the silence. "So, why am I actually here?" she asked quietly.

"Ah'd like ta' propose an offer, Miss Granger. A business arrangement, if you will." He stood and looked her dead in the eye. "Ah'd like you ta stay on as my PR."

A bubble of laughter burst from Hermione's mouth and Oliver's smug smile faltered.

"Are you joking?" She asked him. "You _must_ be joking, because I distinctively remember telling you that I quit, Mr. Wood, in this very room if I'm not mistaken."

"Aye, lass, you did." He continued. "_But _you dinnae exactly stay ta hear my arguments." Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by Oliver holding up his hand. "Ah think you know how much ah' make a year. And ah' am fully prepared to give you a pretty hefty sum. You get paid well now, of course, bu' ah'm talking about big bucks now."

"You want to give me a raise?" she asked, dubiously. Oliver nodded. "How much?"

"Well, how does a thousand galleons sound?" he asked, Hermione's eyes widened even before he added, "a week?"

At this, Hermione's chin all but hit the floor. A thousand Galleons a week? That was ridiculous money. What would she even _do _with a thousand galleons to spare each week? She could take that holiday to Australia, to go visit her parents. She could take Harry and Ron to that posh, new restaurant that just opened to apologize for shunning them. She could even – No! She thought. No way. She had quit, and Oliver could not buy her back with a thousand bloody galleons.

Oliver was waiting patiently. Now he had her. No one would turn down a thousand extra galleons a week. He knew it, she knew it. Now she just needed to say yes, he'd make her sign a contract and they would never have to go through this rubbish again. He had a brilliant mind.

"No," she said, and it rather pained her to do it.

"Great!" Oliver exclaimed, obviously having misheard her. "Now, if you could jus- wait. Wha'?"

"I said no, Mr Wood. The problems that I go through, having you as a client, is worth far more than a thousand galleons. I apologize, I really do, but I have a list here of potentials for you. Most of them are far better at their job than I." She dug through her bag and produced a parchment that had to be about a foot long, and shoved it in his hands. "I'm sure you can find someone suitable, you can owl me when you've decided who you want, and I'll sort it all out."

Once again, Oliver found himself in the changing rooms watching Hermione walk away. The only difference was this time, he was outraged. How dare she? How bloody dare she walk away from him? Well, she was messing with the wrong celebrity.

Making his way out on the pitch, Oliver already had a plan formulated in his mind. If she wouldn't work for him, he was going to make damn sure she wasn't going to work for any one.

"OI! GUYS!" He yelled, jumping on his broom. The team whipped their heads around. "We're goin' out tonigh'! Firs' round on me, aye?"

He was going to ruin her.

* * *

**A/N : So there it is, chapter three! It feels good to post this chapter now that I know there are people waiting for it! **

**Thankyou to those who reviewed, it stopped me going insane thinking people didn't like this story!**

**Thankyou to those who put this on their story alerts, it's nice to know people enjoy my writing.**

**And a mahoosive thanks to Trainwreck729 who beta'ed this chapter!**

**I'm going to start working on the next chapter soon, but it might take a bit longer to update - only because I haven't started writing it! **

**Pleaseeee review if you read this chapter, I can see that there are people viewing it, but they're not reviewing, so just go ahead and click that button down there ;) x  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter **

**A/N: Just a little note before we begin..**

**Tetee -This chapter might help with your understanding of Hermione's job choice, I'm glad you pointed it out because it was quite OOC for her (:. And I can't help but write Oliver cocky, it's just how he's supposed to be I suppose! Lol**

**Dorienn - I rather think you might hate me after you've read this! But soldier on through! I swear, it gets better! Thanks for your consistent reviews!  
**

**Readerforlife - I'm glad you liked it! I hope you like this one just as much!**

**Now - ON WITH THE STORY!**

**

* * *

**

A lot of people had asked Hermione Granger, one third of the Golden Trio and Gryffindor Princess, _why_ she had gone into public relations?

"You could have done whatever you wanted!" They would say. "Why throw away those opportunities and do something so…_muggle_?"

Usually, when someone would ask her this, Hermione would smile and laugh politely, never answering their questions directly. Her decision to go into public relations was a complicated one at best and she preferred not to talk about it.

During her Hogwarts years, Hermione had never really decided what it was exactly she wanted to do. She had thought about doing something within the Ministry, perhaps an auror, or maybe an assistant to the minister. She had thought many times about working as a buyer for book stores. She had even gone through a spell where she thought she wanted to be an editor for the daily prophet. However, unlike most of her peers, she could never decide what she wanted to do.

When the war cam around, she had forgotten about her future, opting instead to worry about how she was going to get through each day. It was a tough time for everybody, but Hermione took it harder than most. After the war for about a year, Hermione used as little magic as she possibly could. She even learnt to drive, to avoid flooing, and apparating. Magic wasn't as appealing as it was before, perhaps because she had witnessed first hand the terrifying things it could do.

About a year and a half after the war, Hermione was at the Burrow, celebrating Molly's birthday. She got talking to Ginny about her new place as Chaser on the Puddlemere United team.

_"It's a wonderful job, Hermione." She said, practically glowing with happiness. "Honestly, I'm getting paid to do something I love! It's brilliant!"_

_ "That's fantastic, Gin. I'm really happy for you." _

_ And she was, she really was. She was just miffed that everybody seemed to be moving on and finding their dream job, whilst Hermione was stuck pulling pints at the Leaky Cauldron. It's not that she wasn't getting job offers, she was getting those from nearly every business in the wizarding world, she just didn't want to pick a job, and hate it. So Hermione asked Tom, the barman at the Leaky Cauldron, if he needed a hand. He was skeptical about it at first, wondering why Hermione Granger wanted to serve firewhiskey, but warmed to the idea once he saw how much more business the pub was getting._

_ "The only real problem with the job is the press. They hound you like crazy, and if you mess up once, the entire world knows about it!"_

_ Right on cue, Fred and George stormed into the kitchen. George was waving a copy of that days daily prophet over his head, and they both had looks to kill._

_ "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" Fred screamed, as George slapped the paper down in front on Ginny. _

_ The front page was covered in pictures of Ginny, looking a bit worse for wear, out celebrating with the Puddlemere United team. The fact that the rest of the team were men, was not helping in the slightest._

_ "YOU LOOK LIKE SOME SORT OF…OF…OF SCARLET WOMAN!" Hermione snorted, instantly reminded of her fourth year, when Ron had said the exact thing to her._

_"It's not funny, Mione!" Fred said, giving her a deadly glare. _

_Ginny groaned and dropped her head into hands. Hermione felt rather sorry for the girl._

_ "Well, Ginny? Do this often do you? Out celebrating with your BOYFRIENDS!" George stressed the plural._

_ "It was the first win for the team since I joined." She mumbled into her hands. "I wasn't even that drunk. It just looks like it!" _

_ She picked up her head and looked straight at Hermione. "See what I mean? This isn't the first time it's happened, and I'd bet you it wont be the last."_

_ Fred and George had calmed down a bit now, not by much, they were still furious that their baby sister was out partying._

_ "Well," George said, "It's bound to happen…you are famous now. Still, next time, take a few girls out with you, it does look a bit bad." He was still glaring._

_ "What I need is one of those people…oh what are they called? PR's?" Ginny said._

_ Hermione thought about this for a second, it sounded quite easy really. It was all 'boosting public image', she could do that. Plus she would be working with her best friend._

_ "I'll do it." The words left Hermione's mouth of their own accord. "I'll be you're PR."_

_ Fred, George and Ginny all looked quite shocked. _

_ "What? Why?" Ginny asked. Hermione thought it was rather rude of her. She was only trying to help a friend in need._

_ "It would be easy. I've done it before, in fourth year…sort of." _

_ "Hermione, you blackmailed Rita Skeeter to keep her quiet. I'm sure there's a lot more to it than that."_

_ "Well, I know that! But I think I could do it. I'll research the job thoroughly first of course. But really, it's all about boosting public image, right? Well, I'm pretty good with words, I could spin it around."_

_ "What are you talking about Hermione?" Fred asked, looking quite interested._

_ Hermione let out a huff of frustration, not able to find the words to explain herself. She glanced around the room and her eyes fell on the paper on the table. She picked it up and took a good long look._

_ "Right, take this article for example, by looking at this picture, people aren't going to take you seriously are they?" Ginny scowled at her, but shook her head. "But what if we were to turn it around and say something like, 'This was Ginny at a celebration for Puddlemere United's very first win with her playing for the team! She very rarely goes out to pubs and clubs, but felt that the skilled playing that, ultimately, led to a _glorious_ win was something to be celebrated.' See? You just turn it around." When they were silent, Hermione felt her cheeks flush. "It's not that good, I know, but it was just something from the top of my head." She mumbled._

_ However, the three red heads looked rather impressed. _

_ "Okay, Hermione." Ginny said, shaking her hand. "You've got the job."_

Hermione smiled as she remembered the weeks to follow that night in the kitchen. She spent hours looking up Public Relations, pouring over books until late into the evening. Ginny turned out to be an easy client, she wasn't one to go out every night and party until day break, though when she did, she was very rarely caught in the act.

The only thing Hermione really had to deal with was Ginny's tendency to lose her temper. She threw Harry out of their house about once a month, she would fight with members of opposing teams occasionally, and once she had thrown a punch at a waitress at a coffee shop who refused to stop touching Harry. Hermione was working on that little incident for weeks.

Hermione soon found that she loved the job, and began taking on other clients. She built her way up and was soon known all over the wizarding world as one of the best PR Guru's you could get your hands on.

She never took on more than two clients at a time, as a rule. But when Ginny came to her one day, and practically begged her to take on Oliver Wood, she couldn't say no, even though she was working for Ginny and The Weird Sisters. She told Ginny that she'd give Oliver a trial run and then decided whether she wanted to take him on or not. Of course Oliver passed with flying colours, she didn't have to do much, just arrange the odd interview once in a while, and cover up stories about his abusive father.

At first, juggling three clients was easy, but when Oliver went nuts, she had to drop the Weird Sisters, and she even began neglecting some of her 'Ginny Duties', as she called them. Ginny said that she didn't mind, and it was really rather refreshing to get a break from autograph signings and interviews.

Hermione felt like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders when she told Oliver he needed to find a new PR Guru. It was just too much work for her and she rather doubted another PR was going to want to take him on any time soon, not unless he changed his attitude at least.

* * *

Ginny Weasley was not in a very good mood.

She was currently sat in The Leaky Cauldron with a _very_ sour look on her face. When Oliver had suggested drinks, she was rather for the idea. As soon as practise was over, Ginny owled Harry, explaining to him that she was going out and would be home a little later than expected. She had then changed into her spare clothes she kept in her locker and went straight to the pub with the lads.

When they arrived Oliver had made a beeline towards the bar. He returned to the table with seven shots of firewhiskey. Ginny wasn't happy about this, but shot the burning liquor anyway. She was about to get something light, like a butter beer, but Oliver returned once more, with more shots. This time, he presented _fourteen_ shots. She politely declined hers, and watched as Oliver gulped down not only his two shots, but hers and Donovan's, the Puddlemere Seeker, as well.

Ginny thought the best thing was to ignore him, after all he was probably only after attention. She busied herself with talking to James Downy, one of her fellow chasers. He, like Ginny, was steering clear of the liquor, sipping instead on a butter beer. They were just discussing tactics when their attention slipped to Oliver. He was dancing on a table.

She finally lost it, she had to stop this.

"Oliver!" She shouted at him, trying to climb over her rowdy team mates, who found Oliver's dancing hilarious. "Oliver! Get down!" She succeeded in pulling him down from the table, however when she tried to take his drink away from him he downed it.

"Don't you think you've had enough, Oliver?" Ginny wrenched the pint glass out of his hand, and set it on the table.

"Ginny, lass!' he slurred, throwing his arm around her shoulders. "Live a little! Have another drink! Ah'm paying!"

He tried to steer them toward the bar but Ginny managed to yank him away and stumbled away from the crowd. She led him, with much difficulty, to a quiet corner and propped him against a wall.

"Oliver, you need to stop drinking. You're only going to make a fool of yourself...again." She told him straight, not at all worried about offending him.

Oliver shook his arm out of her grip and laughed again.

"Ah'm here ta have a good night, lass. Ah' will continue ta drink until _ah'_ think Ah've enough." Oliver went to turn his back on her but Ginny spun him around, and pushed back against the wall.

"What is _wrong_ with you? You've had _enough_! You're already drunk and we've only been here an hour or so! I'm not thick, Wood. You're sour about Hermione quitting and you're doing _this_," she gestured wildly at him "just to get back at her, aren't you? So she's going to have a butt load of work! Do you think it's going to make her _want _to stay on? This is the reason she's dropping you as a client, you fool!"

At this, Oliver directed a nasty glare at her. If Ginny hadn't grown up with Ron, who himself had a nasty temper, she probably would have shrunk away but as it was she stood her ground, and gave him a glare that her mother would be proud of.

"Tha' is none of yer' business, Weasley. Yer' little friend is getting jus' wha she deserves." He sounded rather menacing. Ginny did not like 'Drunk Oliver'.

"You listen here, Wood. I'm taking you home, _right now. _When we get there you are going straight to bed. I don't know why you're laughing, you idiot, I'm not joking!"

"Ah'd like to see ya' try!" he said, between laughs. "Ah' dunnae know if ya noticed, but yer' a wee bit smaller than me!" He found his joke hilarious, Ginny did not.

She leant in very close to him, and said in her deadliest voice, "If you don't leave with me right now, I swear I'll tell the coach what you did with his daughter. Hermione may have stopped it going into the papers, but I know all about it."

His eyes went as wide as saucepans. "Yer' bluffin'"

"Try me, Wood." They stared each other out for a long moment, until Oliver finally gave up, and stumbled toward the door.

Ginny, feeling very proud of herself, practically skipped to catch up with him. She was rather excited about telling Hermione what she had done for her, and hoped that maybe it would get her out of the interview Hermione had planned for her this weekend.

She was musing about what she was going to do instead for the weekend when she crashed into Oliver's back. She peeked around him and several flashbulbs almost blinded her.

_"Damn," _she thought, "_Someone must have told them the team was here."_

She was just about to pull Oliver through the crowd of paparazzi when he grabbed her arm, spun her round, and planted a sloppy kiss on her mouth.

Ginny screeched, the flashbulbs went crazy, and Oliver grinned. It was then when Ginny planted a punch right on his nose.

* * *

Hermione was sat in the little coffee shop where she met Ginny, regularly. She had already ordered and, as her redheaded friend was late, she ordered for Ginny too. Her tea came out almost immediately and she was busying herself with adding milk and sugar when the café door burst open.

Hermione, and every one else in the little shop, jumped and whipped their head to look at the door. Ginny was stood with her hair in a mess and her eyes clenched shut.

"HERMIONE I AM SO SORRY!" She wailed, still stood at the door. Hermione jumped up and made a beeline for Ginny. She apologised for her friend's behaviour and then dragged her outside.

"Ginny, what on earth is _wrong_?" She placed her hands on the younger girls' shoulders, trying to sooth the poor woman. Ginny was heaving great, gut wrenching sobs, and they were only getting louder.

"I'm – so – sorry!" she repeated, over and over. Hermione was beginning to think that perhaps her friend had lost it.

"Ginny, calm down would you? Tell me what's wrong, and we can fix it. I'll fix it Gin, don't worry."

Ginny's sobs had died down to pathetic sniffles. She was staring resolutely at her shoes. "It's too late, Hermione." She mumbled. "Haven't you seen the Prophet today?"

Actually, Hermione hadn't seen the daily newspaper that day. She had woken up late and had to rush to meet her friend. That morning she had snatched the rolled up paper straight from her table and stuffed it into her bag. She had planned to read it at the café but had forgotten all about it.

She reached slowly into her bag, and pulled out the crisp paper. Hermione unrolled the paper; a tense feeling had over come her. She took a deep breath and her eyes fell on the front page.

There were two pictures. The first was of a couple kissing, the second was of a woman, face contorted with fury, punching the man right on the nose. It was Oliver and Ginny.

Hermione felt something bubbling in her chest.

"Ginny…" She began, speaking dangerously slow. Ginny had noticed her eyes hadn't left the paper. "What is this?"

Ginny burst into a long winded explanation of the night, telling Hermione about going out for drinks and how Oliver just would not stop, and then she confronted him.

"…And then _finally _I got him to leave, I threatened I'd tell the coach about…well you know, and I was really proud of myself! I really wanted to tell you about it! Because, you know, he was giving you all that hassle, and then he was purposely doing this to piss you off-"

"Ginny! Get on with it!"

"Right, yes, of course! So we went outside and Oliver stopped, I saw the paparazzi and I was about to drag him away, I _was_! But then he just grabbed me! It only lasted about ten seconds and then I punched him." Ginny finished and then glanced at Hermione; her eyes were wide and brimming with tears. "I'm sorry 'Mione, I really was trying to avoid something like this." She gestured, half heartedly, at the paper Hermione was still glaring at.

Hermione was silent. She could the bubbling thing in her chest expand and take shape. It was rage, pure unadulterated rage. Hermione had never felt like this before; it was exhilarating.

Finally, Hermione looked at Ginny, whose tears were spilling down her face.

"Are you very mad at me? Harry is – he threatened to kill Oliver this morning."

"No Ginny, I'm not mad at you. I'm afraid I have to leave." She sounded calm, eerily calm.

Hermione turned and began walking down the street, Ginny stood, rooted to the spot.

"And Ginny?" Hermione turned, smiling. "You can tell Harry he doesn't have to worry about murdering Oliver, because I'm going to do that right now."

Before Ginny could even blink, Hermione was gone.

* * *

**A/N: DON'T HATE ME! I know Oliver's a jerk right now, but it's all part of my master plan **;)

** I swear this is an Oliver/Hermione fic, it's just taking a while to get there! There's gonna be more of them together in the next chapter - Hermione kills him. I joke! I joke! **

**I know whats missing...REVIEWS! Go crazy people, like keyboard warriors **;)

**emlb x**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: First of all I'd like to apologise for taking so bloody long to update! I've been _really _busy lately and didn't have much time. Not only that, but I wrote several versions of this chapter, and I wasn't happy with any of them! It seems I have a case of writers block D:! I just don't know where I'm going with this story now, so this is a bit of a filler chapter. **

**Any idea's would be extremely helpful.**

**Thank you to: ****Dorienn, ****Readerforlife, ****Wicca in training, ****CheshireCat23, ****Stunning sunset, ****MeredithGlass, ****and tv5xq for your reviews (:**

* * *

It seemed to Oliver that the world was out to get him on this fine day. He awoke in the morning to find that the curtains were positioned perfectly for the morning sun to burn his eyes. The tenants in the below flat seemed to think that today was the perfect day for demolition. And Oliver's headache would rival the pain of the Cruciatus curse.

When he finally rolled out of his large and lavish bed, he found that his foot had landed smack bang in the middle of a pile of his own vomit. Oliver hopped to the bathroom and stuck his foot in the bath tub, trying desperately to remember the events of the previous evening.

He was coming up empty until he leaned back and glanced at himself in the mirror. Oliver realised he was sporting two very large, very ugly black eyes. In that instant Oliver remembered. In that instant Oliver cringed. And in that instant Oliver heard an obnoxious knock on his front door.

He was reluctant to answer, thinking that the owner of that knock could only be Harry Potter. The boyfriend of the woman he slobbered all over last night. He tip toed, silently, to the front door. If it was Harry Oliver decided there and then that he wouldn't answer. He wasn't on top form this morning and answering the door to an angry boyfriend was not top of his to do list. In fact, getting a hangover potion had the honour of being top of that list this morning.

He crept to his front door, feeling rather silly. One shouldn't have to creep in ones own house! But this one did not want his black eye to turn into something more deadly. Like no manly bits. He slowly put his eye against the peek hole and felt his stomach drop to his knees.

He'd rather go ten rounds with The Chosen One and You-Know-Who, than just one round with the woman stood at his front door.

"_Yes_," Oliver thought, wearily, "_The world is definitely out to get me_."

She knew her hands were going to hurt after punching Oliver's door repeatedly. She knew the neighbours were stood out in the hallway, tittering at her obnoxious and rude behaviour. She knew that her face was most definitely beet-red and she had frustrated tears brimming in her eyes. But Hermione was not going home until he answered the door. And she _knew _he was going to answer the door.

"WOOD!" She screamed, punching the door a few more times. "I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE SO YOU BETTER GET OUT HERE! I'LL BLAST THIS DOOR OFF THE HINGES! YOU JUST BLOODY TRY ME!"

Very slowly, the door opened just a crack. She saw Oliver's wide blue eyes peeking out at her. She thought about what to do next. She could stand out here and make more of an idiot out of herself, or she could force her way in.

"LET. ME. _IN!_" Hermione's foot kicked out at its own accord, and Oliver's door swung in on itself, smacking Oliver smartly in the nose.

He plummeted backwards, hitting the wall with a sharp smack, and then sliding down to floor. His hands instantly rushed up to his face and he covered his nose. That's when the tears started.

He was absolutely horrified at himself. Oliver Wood never cried. He had been pummelled as a child, and he hadn't cried. He had falling fifty feet from his broom and still hadn't cried. He had had a fight with Marcus Flint, who was built like brick-shit-house, and still no tears had escaped his eyes.

And yet here he was, sat on the floor sobbing like a child. He would later say that his eyes were merely watering from the sharp smack to the nose, but he knew differently. The hazards of the day were simply too much for a tired and hung-over Oliver to bear. And it was still only 11'o'clock.

Hermione was not prepared for the tears. She had seen many awful things in her life; she fought in the war for Merlin's sake! But she had never seen a grown man wailing like a little girl. If she had been in a decent state of mind, which she was not, she would have immediately helped him. She would have stopped his nose-bleed, gotten him several tissues to clean himself up and would have made him a cup of tea.

But she didn't. In fact, she laughed. Loud belly laughs that had her bent double and tears streaming down her cheeks. It was ridiculously insensitive, but it was all she could do.

Hermione's laughs seemed to bring Oliver back to his senses, and he immediately stopped crying. Opting instead to glare daggers at her.

"Think it's funny do ya'?" he pulled himself off of the floor, and pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Stop laughin'!" And he poked her in the chest.

Hermione stopped laughing instantly, and glanced between Oliver, and the finger that was still prodding into her.

"Get your hands off of me at once!" She brushed his finger off of her easily. "I'll laugh if I want! After all, it's you own bloody fault!"

"My faul'?" Oliver was outraged. "If it's anybodys faul', its yers!"

Hermione scoffed. "How can you make this my fault? You're the one who can't stop drinking! You need help!"

"Ah was only drinkin' las' night because of you! I wanted to make a mess so bad, not even you can get me out of it!"

"Well you've succeeded, you prat! I can't fix this, and even if I could I bloody well wouldn't!" She all but shrieked. "I think it's high time you sorted your own messes out. So well done, Wood. You not only managed to ruin my reputation as a PR, but you also managed to ruin yours and Ginny's. I do hope you're happy."

She spun around, fully intent on leaving him to _bleed to death_, although that was highly unlikely.

"Hang on a bloody second! You cannae' jus' _leave_!" He grabbed Hermione's wrist and spun her back around. "I wan' an' apology!"

At this, Hermione's jaw literally dropped. How dare he? He had been the bane of her existence for God only knows how long and now he had the _audacity _to ask for an apology!

"You know what Oliver. I hate you. I literally _hate you._ You are rude, you are obnoxious and you're a sly little bugger!" Hermione advanced upon him slowly, backing him against the wall. "Would you like to know something? Ever since you went bloody _psycho _I haven't had a moments chance to live my life! I haven't gone out with friends, I haven't read a book and it's been a year and half since the last time I slept with someone!"

That last one sort of slipped out. She was definitely not planning on discussing _that _part of her life with him. She didn't even talk about it to Ginny. But deciding not dwell on it, she soldiered on.

"So if anything _you _should be apologising to _me_!"

The room was silent for a moment, except for Hermione's loud pants. The silence was ridiculously awkward for Oliver, and he didn't really know what to say.

"Has it really been tha' long since you slept with someone?" He asked stupidly.

Oliver could say that he had never heard a woman growl up until that moment. And if he was being 100% honest, it scared him silly.

"After all of that, and that's all you heard?" She resisted the urge to knee him in the gut, hard. "Do you know what? This is pointless. I'm leaving. You are to find a new PR and you are to never, _ever _speak to me again!"

And with that Hermione marched out of Oliver's flat, and hopefully, out of his life.

* * *

Oliver was positively fuming from his encounter with Hermione. He had never been more humiliated in his life. Not only were his black eyes somehow _blacker, _but he had a feeling his nose was broken and he couldn't forgive himself for crying. Like a little _girl_!

He stomped into his bedroom and located his wand, promptly clearing the blood which had streamed all over his face and shirt. He cleared up the vomit which had stood in too, still quite disgusted with himself. He then proceeded to the bathroom where he examined his nose in the mirror.

Unfortunately, Oliver didn't know any spells for un-breaking his nose, so he decided to try and do it the way, and pushing it back in place.

After several attempts, which left Oliver squealing like a first year girl, he decided that maybe a trip to St Mungos was in order. They would put it back into place and it wouldn't hurtmuggle one bit.

He hurried to his bedroom and dressed quickly.

* * *

Hermione's hands _hurt._ She had known that they were going to be a bit painful after walloping the door several times, but she didn't realise that they would hurt quite this much. Not only that, but she suspected that she had probably broken her toe after kicking Oliver's front door.

The kicker was, she knew the spell that would relieve her of her pain but, her hands in the current state they were in, couldn't pick grip her wand properly. She supposed she could call one of her friends and ask them to perform the spell for her, but she didn't feel like explaining _how _she had acquired her injuries.

Instead, she decided that a quick visit to St. Mungos wouldn't do her any harm. She twisted on the spot and, with a sharp crack, disappeared.

* * *

**A/N: I still don't like this chapter, and I'm sorry it's so short. I felt terrible for not updating so I posted what I had. Don't be too hard on me, this one's not beta'ed (:**

**Again, reviews will be lovely, and any idea's where you want this to go would also be greatly appreciated. Thanks guys!**

**Love, emlb x**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: *Bows head in shame* If you hate me, I understand. But here's your next chapter (: It's short, but it's here!**

**Disclaimer: It all belongs to Rowling.  
**

The hospital was the last place Oliver wanted to be, and especially in his current state. With his two black eyes and swollen nose he looked like he had gotten on the wrong side of the whomping willow. Furthermore, the fact that the papers had captured him cavorting with the Boy-Who-Genuinely-Terrified-Him's girlfriend earned him some truly disgusted looks. One witch actually brandished a wand at him, before her husband calmed her down.

He hurried to the reception desk.

"Excuse me?" The young witch at the desk flicked her gaze up at Oliver. She was somewhat familiar to him but he couldn't place her. "Ah need tae see a Doctor please."

Now, Oliver knew he was a bloody good looker and he prided himself on the fact he could make practically any witch swoon. However this witch did anything but.

"Oh right. So you think because your some super star Quidditch player we're just going to throw Doctors at your feet, do you?" Her tone was clipped.

"Err, no. But Ah really do need someone to help me out. Ah've got two black eyes and a broken nose. Ah'd'a thought tha' at least deserved a nurse?"

"Haven't you ever heard of bruise balm?" The young witch at the desk turned back to her papers and began rifling through them. Completely ignoring Oliver.

"Excuse me, lass. Is tha' anyway ta' treat a patient? I wanna' talk ta' whoever's in charge here!" He hated being ignored. He was a Quidditch super star for crying out loud! Everyone knew Oliver Wood.

"Well ex_cuse_ me! But 'whoever's in charge' isn't here today I'm afraid!" She leaned in closer to him and spoke in a harsh whisper. "You have no right telling _me_ how to treat people. You didn't even _owl_ me!"

Realisation and dread washed over Oliver all at once. He remembered this girl. She was one of his many one night stands. A crazy one at that.

"Oh-err...Ah'm so sorry, lass. Ah tried ta' send an owl, but my owl passed away. And then Ah was grievin' so Ah forgot. Ah'm sorry lass." This was a lie. Oliver didn't even own an owl.

"Oh, yes. You looked _particularly _distressed when you had your tongue shoved down Harry Potter's girlfriend's throat last night." She all but shouted, slamming a magazine down in front of him. Oliver blushed to the tips of his ears. "Take a seat sir. It might take a while until we can get a nurse to you."

With that, the young witch swiveled in her chair so her back was facing him. Stunned, Oliver did as he was told and took a seat.

Hermione apparated to the little alleyway next to St. Mungos. Her hand was burning, she was pretty sure most of the bones were broken but she didn't care. She was feeling hurt and embarrassed. Shouting at Oliver had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now she was regretting it. Hermione never talked to people like that, no matter how they treated her. She was the kind of person who would put up with it, then lash out on her pillow later. Thank God for _reparo._

She shuffled into St. Mungos feeling sorry for herself and approached the woman at the desk.

"Excuse me, Miss?" The woman at the desk swiveled her chair around sharply. "Sorry to be a bother, but I think my hands broken. I'd fix it myself but I can't use my wand, you see."

"Not a bother at all, Miss Granger!" Of course the witch knew her. Everyone knew about the Golden Trio. "I'm going to need you to sit down and we'll have a doctor to you as soon as possible."

Hermione nodded her thanks and went to sit down. She was feeling drained and just wanted to go back to her flat and go to bed.

She tilted her head against the wall and shut her eyes. The ER room was quiet and she was hoping she could take a small nap before a doctor could fix her hand.

Hermione was teetering on the edge of sleep, until a loud and obnoxious noise wrenched her from her almost nap.

"AH'VE BEEN WAITIN' HERE LONG ENOUGH NOW, LASS! ALL'S I WAN' IS A BLOODY DOCTOR!"

Hermione's eyes flew open. She knew that voice very well. Sitting up she saw Oliver, looking rather worse for wear. His face was swelled almost beyond recognition and he looked on the verge of tears. The nurse had called for security and Hermione could see them bounding up the corridor. The two security guards jumped for Oliver at the same time.

It was in that moment when all hell broke loose.

The three considerably large men collided and went sprawling to the floor. The guards were shouting for order, Oliver was shrieking incoherently and the receptionist was shouting for help. Hermione couldn't take this noise. Her head was pounding, her hands were burning and she was livid that these people were making such a fuss in a hospital of all places!

"Would everyone just shut _up_!" The words were out of her mouth before she knew she was going to say them. She stood from her comfortable chair and stalked the center of the room. "A hospital is a place for the sick to recover! It is _not _a place for you people to be shouting your mouths off!"

Everyone was quiet and staring at Hermione. The three men on the floor had stopped fighting and the nurse was now blushing scarlet red. Hermione noticed this and nodded, quite proud of herself.

"Yes! You should be embarrassed! How dare you shriek like that in a hospital. You should be reported! And you two," She advanced in on the two security guards who, despite towering over her in height and being practically double her weight, shrunk into the floor. "Why on _earth_ did you tackle a patient like that? Yes, he was causing a scene but he wasn't dangerous! He could have been hurt! He could have broken bones and you two tackled him like you were playing a game of rugby!"

Oliver, who had managed to wriggle free from the two burly guards, was nodded in agreement. He stood up, brushed himself off and brandished an accusatory finger at them.

"Ah should report you-"

"Oliver Wood I swear to Merlin if you don't shut up I'm going to curse you!" Hermione turned on him for the second time that day. 'Why do you keep showing up _everywhere _I go? I thought I made it clear that I didn't want to see you. Ever again."

"Lass I jus' came in tae' sort this out." He gestured wildly to his face. "Which, by the way, is no fault of _mine_!"

"It most certainly wasn't my fault, if that's what you're insinuating!" Hermione was raising her voice now. She didn't mean to, but Oliver most definately brought the worst in her.

Oliver, no to be outdone, raised his voice ta couple octaves aswell. He was getting rather sick of Hermione's 'I-can-do-absolutely-no-wrong' attitude.

"Wasn't your fault? _Wasn't your fault? _If you could have just done your _job_, none of us would be in this situation right now-"

"Don't you _dare_! Don't. You. Dare! Blame this on me, Oliver Wood." Hermione shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She really did not want to blow up on him again today. But he just got under her skin! She didn't know why he affected her in such a way.

They began screaming at eachother, rather incoherently at that! Hermione swung her hand out to smack him again, thinking only that could shut him up. Oliver snatched her hand in the nick of time and refused to let go. This, of course, resulted in more shouts from Hermione and more yells from Oliver.

The hospital was pandemonium.

"Excuse me!" Oliver and Hermione whirled around to see an angry looking man in a pristine white doctor's coat. "What in Merlin's name is going _on_ here?"

* * *

**A/N: Okay, an extremely short chapter! Most of it dialogue aswell. But I wanted to post something to let everyone know that I'm still alive, and still trying to work on this fic. I promised I'd finish it, and I most definitely will!  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I got this one out much quicker than my last one! Yaaay! It's short and sweet and I hope you like it (:  
**

**And thanks to those who reviewed: _divinehyperactivity, CheshireCat23, FiOnAFiO, MapleandPheonixFeather, deator11, kungfooey, sarah0406._**

**And a special thanks to _Dorienn, _who's reviewed every single chapter. Thank you so much (: _  
_**

The man in the white coat looked rather important. And he also looked rather annoyed.

The pandemonium immediately ceased when he appeared, the security guards hurried to pull themselves upright, and the secretary was looking shamefaced. Quite rightly in Oliver's opinion, she had been screaming indignantly.

All at once Hermione, Oliver and the two burly guards opened their mouths to explain themselves. However, the man in the white coat held up his hand as if to say 'I don't want to hear it'. The hand gesture reminding Oliver of Snape, somewhat.

"On second .?docid=23581395hough, I don't think I need an explanation. In fact, if you could follow me please, Miss Granger, Mr. Wood? I'm sure we can tend to your injuries in a somewhat more dignified manner.

With that, he swept his white coat around and began to march down the corridor. Hermione and Oliver shared a very confused look, before remembering they hated each other and promptly began jogging after him.

* * *

Within ten minutes Hermione found herself in a semi-private room. It was white and clean, and smelled like sterile…if sterile had a specific smell that is. In fact it was just like all other hospitals, only magical.

A blue curtain was pulled across the middle of the room, giving her an adequate amount of privacy. Although she didn't really need it, they were only going to fix her hands. She could sense someone on the other side of the curtain, but she didn't mind much.

Her hands ached terribly, however she had almost forgotten why she was even at St. Mungo's after the fiasco in the waiting room. Too busy trying to control Oliver she supposed. She let out a frustrated sigh. _Story of my life, _she thought. _Controlling that wretched oaf._

A young man ruffled through the curtain and pulled her from her thoughts. Hermione's jaw just about hit the floor. This wizard was _gorgeous_! Brown hair spilled messily onto his forehead, just skimming over blue eyes. His nose was perfectly centered and he a fantastic set of teeth behind those lovely lips of his! As the daughter of two dentists, Hermione had always found that perfect teeth were somewhat of a deal breaker for her.

"Miss Granger? Wow, it certainly is a pleasure to meet you! I'm Doctor Jacob Richards. I'd shake your hand but…well, you know!" He laughed at his own joke, and Hermione found herself smiling somewhat goofily. "Okay, let's jump right in then shall we? Let me see your hands."

He spent a while ghosting his hands over hers, feeling for damage. For him, it was clearly very professional. For Hermione, however, well…she had always had a doctor fantasy.

"Right, it seems you have multiple fractures, nothing serious, I can fix it right up no problem." He flashed that perfect smile again.

"Thank you" It was the first time she had spoken since meeting him, and she was terribly embarrassed to hear her voice wobble slightly. She mentally shook herself. She needed to stop acting like a bloody third year for Merlin's sake!

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you inflict this much damage on yourself? Fighting are we?" He looked up from her hands and sent her a wink. Hermione's blush was redder than Ronald's hair.

"Oh! No, no not at all! It's uh – umm, work related! Yes. Work related." She stammered. "I punched a door. Repeatedly, actually."

"Really? Do you punch a lot of doors in your line of work then? " He laughed. "Or is this just a Sunday thing?" Hermione couldn't help but snort.

"It's an everyday thing when you work close to Oliver Wood!"

He nodded with a look of understanding on his face. "I just saw to wood actually. He point blank refused to tell me how he had gotten in such a state. I thought it had something to do with Harry Potter actually, after seeing the paper this morning. I guess not." He looked pointedly at her hands. "Is that why you hit him? Are you two dating or something?"

"Merlin, _no_!" Hermione exclaimed. "Not at all what you think! I'm his publicist, basically. I'm the reason you don't see stories like that all the time!"

"Oh! Great! I-I mean, you know. That's good." It was his turn to stutter now. "Just that you're far too good of a person to be treated badly. My word, this is slightly unprofessional of me. My apologies, Miss Granger. When I'm around a beautiful woman I just can't help myself!"

Hermione felt like she was blushing from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. Usually, men were intimidated by her. No one was ever this frank with her. It was usually Hermione having to make the first move, men just didn't like to go there with her. Now however she was in untreaded waters, and she rather liked it. He was giving her a choice, sit there and smile prettily whilst waiting for him to make the first move, or take the reigns and be in control of the situation.

Hermione couldn't remember that last time she was utterly speechless. She honestly had no idea what to say.

"Listen," Dr Richard's said. "I don't want you to think I have a habit of asking my patients to dinner, but are you terribly busy tonight? I know of a lovely Italian restaurant in muggle London."  
She opened her mouth to say 'Yes! Of course!', but, to her horror, no words left her lips. And she sat there gaping like a fish.

He grinned. "Great! I'll see you there at 8 then! " He gave her the name and address of the restaurant, winked and left the room.  
When she was quite sure he was not longer in hearing distance, Hermione let out a girly squeal and a giggle. Then she made a mental note to stop by Ginny's and having a mini panic attack until her friend agreed to help her get ready.

She practically skipped out of the room.

Unfortunately, Hermione had been so wrapped up in thoughts of what was sure to be the most romantic evening of her life, she failed to notice the scowling figure of Oliver Wood sitting on just the other side of the curtain.

She also failed to notice that little gleam in his eyes that, to anyone who knew him, meant that he was starting to scheme.

* * *

The first thing Oliver did upon leaving the hospital was apparate to the doorstep of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. If he was going to do this thing properly, he was going to need help.

And together, Fred and George could do pretty much anything.

* * *

**A/N: Ooooh! What's gonna happen? I can't wait to write some Fred, George and Ginny. I have to say that they are my favourite Weasleys!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Here it is, Chapter 8! Thanks again to all my reviewers! If it weren't for you lovely people I wouldn't want to write! **

**Disclaimer: I own the plot and maybe a character or two. Everything else is Rowlings! **

Usually when one hears explosions, basic instinct kicks in and one runs _away_ from said explosion. This however, is not the case in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. If you ever do find yourself in the infamous joke shop following these explosions will, nine out of ten times, lead you to the freckled duo themselves.

Oliver, who knew the twins well, did exactly that. He followed the ominous sounds and found Fred and George in the back room.

The back room had been crudely furnished to resemble a laboratory. It was painted white, had two metal desks with two metal chairs, several islands and shelves of vials filled with brightly coloured potions littered the walls. It had been, quite rightly, nicknamed 'The Lab'.

In the center of the room, on a raised platform was a _huge _cauldron. It was black and big and shiny as if it were brand new, save for the globs of green sludge that were currently spitting and spilling down it's exterior. It smelled absolutely _awful_!

Fred and George we're bent heavily over the gargantuan pot, stirring vigorously. They each had a look of pure frustration on their faces.

Oliver, without thinking, began to speak.

"Wha in Merlins name is tha' ruddy smell?" His outburst had managed to surprise the twins, which, in itself, was a sort of triumph for Wood.

One of them - he was fairly sure it was George - dropped the giant metal spoon he was holding straight into the sludge.

"Oh bugger!" Fred yelled.

The cauldron started hissing and bubbling uncontrollably. And it was making some God awful belching noises.

The twins scrambled back.

"Move it, Wood!" George shouted, pulling harshly on Oliver's left arm.

"We have no idea what's going to happen now!" Fred's shriek from his right sounded more excited then concerned as he rushed toward the door.

Green gunge was spitting out of the cauldron furiously now. One glob passed Oliver's face a little too close for his liking, and he was sure his eyebrow had singed. One twin hauled his shocked form out of the room whilst the other slammed the metal door and locked it tightly.

"Phew!" said George. "That was close brother!"

"I wonder what would happen if it had hit one of us?" Fred asked, honestly curious.

"Let's leave it in there for a bit. We can come back later to see what it's done to The Lab!"

"Great idea, brother mine!"

"Yeh donnae even know wha' it is? Are yeh crazy, lads? One of these days yeh'r experimentin's gonna get yeh killed!" Oliver ranted, sounding a little bit like Molly Weasley.

At least they looked somewhat contrite, if only for a split second.

They narrowed their eyes into a menacingly identical glare.

"Speaking of things that will get you killed-"

"-snogging our baby sister just so happens to be one of them!"

"It's actually top of the bloody list!"

George balled his hands into fists and Oliver swore he heard the knuckles crack. He swallowed audibly.

"Bu' - bu' - Ah was drunk! You _know _wha' Ah'm like after a few firewhiskeys!"

"So what are you trying to say?"

"That our sister's only snoggable when you've got your beer goggles on?"

Oliver wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to respond to this.

"No! Of course not! Gin's a righ' looker! Not tha' Ah notice or anythin'! Gah! Lads, she yeh'r sister! Ah- bu'- Oh, Merlin, help me out here!" He was stuttering out. " Ah'm so sorry! Ah really am! Ah promise tae go down and apologise tae her and Harry tomorrow!" How about tha'?" He looked at them, pleadingly.

The twins shook their heads in unison. Oliver's face fell. He couldn't lose Fred and George over something that happened when he was drunk! That wasn't _fair_!

"I dunno, mate." Fred began. "Ginny's got a fantastic bat bogey hex. Not to mention a killer right hook!"

"Trust us! And Harry defeated You-Know-Who. If I were you-"

"-I'd stay away."

Oliver pondered this for a moment.

"Maybe I could write a letter or something..."

Fred, George and Oliver all cracked up.

"You're alright mate-" said Fred.

"-just stay away from Ginny from now on!" finished George.

After a few more apologies. Some 'it was my fault''s and plenty of 'we forgive you''s, Oliver got serious.

"Righ' lads. Ag do need yeh'r help. Tha's why Ah came."

"Help you say?"

"With what?"

"Well, Ah was in St. Mungo's earlier - long story - an' Ah overheard somethin' very interesting..."

* * *

Hermione decided she wanted to Floo the short distance to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. It was quicker and she needed all the time she could get to look absolutely fabulous for her date tonight.

Unfortunately for her, she had Floo'd straight into an argument. The sound of her arrival was drowned out by the yells of Ginny.

"You are being a complete arse, Harry Potter, and you know it!" She pracitcally shrieked.

"Ginny would you _please _stop shouting at me!" Poor Harry, always the voice of reason.

"I am not shouting!" Shouted Ginny. "You're the one who is accusing me of cheating on you with Oliver-bloody-Wood! For Merlin's sake, I've never heard anything more RIDICULOUS! AND I LIVED WITH RON!"

Hermione huffed impatiently. The name 'Wood' seemed to have a habit of following her around.

_Well, _she thought. _Not tonight!_

Just as Harry was opening his mouth to shoot back, what was sure to be, an awful retort, Hermione cut in.

"ENOUGH! You both need to shut up now, please!" She took a couple of steps forward and was standing directly in between them.

They looked at her expectantly. Apparently they thought she had some good advice or something of the lark. Unfortunately, she did not.

"I have a date tonight." She said, rather meekly. And mentally kicked herself for it.

Harry looked bemused. What did he care if Hermione had a date? He was in the middle of a domestic, for Merlin's sake!

Ginny, however, brightened within second.

"Oh! Really? A date? A _real _date! Ooh! I'm so excited! With who? Where? What are you going to wear?" She began gushing.

"No idea! That's why I'm here actually. I need you to come shopping with me, if that's alright with you?"

"I'll be ready in five minutes." And she shot off up the stairs, squealing. All thoughts of her argument vanishing in the wind, like the trail of dust she was leaving behind her.

"How?" Harry asked, staring in amazement after his girlfriend. "How did you do that?"

He rounded on her, eyes wide in wonder. "Teach me."

Hermione snorted and shook her head.

"There are some things, Harry, that just can't be taught."

* * *

Hermione and Ginny spent the afternoon shopping for the perfect outfit. They had trooped through shop after shop, wizard and muggle London alike. It had taken what seemed like 1000 wardrobe changes, 100 fits of tears and 50 panic attacks until they had found it.

That _beautiful _black dress. Sexy, yet tasteful and utterly _perfect_.

And it was _on sale_! Bargain.

It was only when they were sat drinking tea at a little cafe did Hermione start to panic.

"Oh, Gods! I can't wear that! It's too sexy! I'll look like a bloody hussy!" She worried.

"Merlin, Hermione! Compared to some of my dresses, that thing looks like a church dress." Ginny snorted. "Oh, and remind me to never show you my lingerie drawer.

Hermione blushed.

"Not that it's going to do me much good for much longer..."

"Are you going to...umm - cut Harry off? So to speak?"

"God's no!" Ginny exclaimed. She took a long sip from her tea. "He's just not going to want me once I start getting fat."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be stupid Ginny. You play sports for a living, and you've been tiny your whole life. What makes you think you're going to get fat?"

"Because I'm pregnant 'Mione."

* * *

"Well, we have to admit-"

"It's a good plan."

Oliver had just gotten through explaining his plan of action for that evening in detail.

"You've thought it through. A lot..." George said, frowning. Oliver looked confused.

"Isn't that a good thing?" He asked.

"Yeah, I suppose." Said Fred. "But wouldn't it be so much easier to just let Hermione quit?"

"Just leave it, Ollie. She obviously doesn't want to work for you. Why can't you just accept that?"

Oliver huffed and threw his hands in the air.

"Because I don't _want _her to quit! If I wanted her to quit, I would have fired her!" He took a deep breath and calmed himself down. "Yeh donnae understand lads. There's absolutely no one out there who's as good as Hermione. Plus, if i change PR's now, no ones gonna take me on anyhow. Who's gonna wannae represent me? Ah just slobbered all over yer sister. Who just so happens tae be the girlfriend of the man who saved the entire Wizarding world. Ah'm probabaly hated now!"

"There's no 'probably' about it, Ollie." George snorted. "You definitely are."

* * *

Hermione's heart was pounding, and she could definitely feel beads of sweat forming on her face. She wiped them away angrily. It had taken her absolutely ages to put her makeup on, and now her nerves were ruining it!

"Come on Hermione!" She whispered to herself, whilst walking down the street Jacob (she figured she's obtained the right to use his first name when he asked her out) had told her. "We can do this?" Unfortunately, her pep talk sounding more like anxious questions.

You see, she wasn't just nervous about her date, she was really very concerned about Ginny. She was pregnant, which was just amazing according to Hermione, but for some reason Ginny seemed troubled by it. Hermione sighed, if it were her, she'd be over the moon! She had wanted children since before she could remember. Three to be exact, two boys and a girl. But all Ginny was talking about was how much weight she was going to gain, or how she was going to be thrown off the Quidditch team. Which she wouldn't be, of course. Hermione tried to explain how maternity leave worked, and how she could go back afterwards if she still wanted to. But Ginny didn't listen.

_Stop thinking about babies! _She chastised herself. Here she was, going out on a first date, with a doctor no less, and all she could think abut was was curly haired, brown-eyed babies.

"Merlin, Hermione! Pull yourself together, this is not your first rodeo!"

She arrived at the restaurant at exactly eight-o-clock. She stopped suddenly, remembering what Ginny had said about being on time for your date. It was somewhere along the lines of "Don't be on time.".

"Shit!" She said. Her first date in what felt like decades and she was already messing up. Merlins beard, she hadn't even found her date yet and she had made a crucial mistake (well crucial according to Ginny, anyway). She considered waiting outside for five or ten minutes, then quickly decided against it. If he caught her out here she'd be mortified. Better to just be on time.

So, with her head held high, she walked resolutely into the restaurant.

Her first thought was of how beautiful the place looked. High ceilings, soft lighting, and gorgeous people set the mood perfectly. _Hmm, _she thought. _I could get used to this!_

"Hello! Can I help you?" Said a lovely looking Hostess, all smiles of course.

"Oh! Yes please. I'm looking for a Dr Jacob Richards. Has he arrived yet?"

"Hmm, let me just check that for you..." Her eyes scanned her top of the range computer. "Oh, yes! Here we are. Well, you are the first to arrive, I could get you seated, or if you'd prefer to wait for the other member of your party, our bars right over there." She pointed to a room that was separated from the restaurant. Hermione peered over and shook her head. The bar looked more like a nightclub.

"I'd rather get seated please, if you don't mind."

"Certainly!" The hostess picked up two menus and motioned for her to follow. She led her through the restaurant, weaving expertly through tables and smiling graciously at guests. She steered her way to a softly lit table, tucked snugly in a corner. Hermione sat at one of the chairs, and the hostess handed her a menu and set the other on the table.

"You're server will be with you shortly. Enjoy your meal madam!" She turned to leave but before she took off she turned to look at Hermine. "That's a beautiful dress by the way!"

And then she was gone.

Smiling, Hermione picked up her menu and started browsing through drinks. Cringing at the prices. A server appeared and smiled down at her.

"Hullo! My names Mark, I'll be your server tonight. Now what can I start you off with? Perhaps some white wine?"

"Oh, umm, actually I think I'll start with some water. Tap please, if you don't mind." She blushed, knowing full well he would mind.

His face fell almost instantly. "Oh, certainly." He swept away from the table, leaving Hermione to peruse the ridiculously priced menu. She figured she wouldn't break a full months budget if she ate the complimentary bread and drank the tap water her server had just placed in front of her.

She sipped her water and checked her watch. It was already ten past. Obviously Dr. Richards knew the late rule well.

At 8:30 she decided he was cutting it a little too close. Her server had been back to her table multiple times, trying to persaude her to order some appetizers whilst she waited for her 'friend'. He said friend as if she was being stood up. Hermione declined curtly, and asked for her third glass of water. Mark was obviously getting impatient.

At 8:45 she had had it! Her server was getting ruder by the minute, her date still hadn't shown up, and she was starving in a restaurant where she couldn't afford to buy anything! She pushed her chair back and stood. She was so embarrassed walking through the restaurant she almost cried. The hostess, who noticed her obvious misery, approached her.

"I'm sorry you're guest didn't show up. Can I suggest somehting?" Hermione noddded. The hostess pointed to the bar. "Our bar prices are considerably cheaper. Go in there and get shamelessly drunk. Besides, there's a man in there who asked after you when you walked in. Very gorgeous if you ask me. Don't waste that dress!"

She winked and gave Hermione a gentle push towards the bar.

Deciding she deserved to get 'shamelessly drunk', Hermione thanked the hostess and stomped towards the bar, in search of that very gorgeous man who asked about her!

**A/N: I've already started work on Chapter 9 and I'm having a bit of fun with it actually. It involves too much alcohol ;). GO CRAZY WITH REVIEWS, FRIENDS! x**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'd like to take this time to answer Anon who sent a review about the Scottish accent I use when writing Oliver. I'm sorry you don't think it's very good but I did warn readers that it's not going to be accurate. I'm going to continue writing the accent because I like it. I'm sorry if my attempt offends anyone, because it's not meant to. And I realise that not everyone in ****Scotland**** says 'Lass', just like not everyone in ****England**** drinks tea and has bad teeth, but I rather thought it suited Oliver.**

**And now I've explained the less than satisfactory accent, ON WITH THE STORY!**

**Disclaimer: In no way do I profit from this. Creative rights go to the wonderful Rowling!**

The bar was, quite honestly, terrifying. Hermione was never the type of person who went out to bars and clubs and when she did she never went alone. She usually went with Ginny, who would make her dress in the most revealing clothes and would force her to wear scary knickers 'just in case'. She would usually be forced onto the dance floor where she would sway awkwardly whilst Ginny strutted her stuff. But not tonight!

No, tonight Hermione Granger was determined to get too drunk and throw caution to the wind. She had been stood up, and she wanted to do everything in her power to forget about it.

She weaved her way across the pulsating dance floor and squeezed herself between two very burly men to get to the bar.  
"Excuse me!" She shouted to the busy bartender. "Can I have a vodka and coke please? You know what, make it a double!"

"Of course, love!" He yelled back.

She paid for her drink, claimed a bar stool, which seemed to be a hot commodity in this place, and took a long sip. She felt relaxed, in spite of being very much alone in unfamiliar surroundings. It wasn't long before she had polished off her drink and was ordering another.

"Hello, love!" Hermione spun around so fast she almost toppled off of her stool. She could recognise _that _voice anywhere.

"_Ronald? _What are you doing here?" She was so incredibly happy to see her best friend that she jumped off of her bar stool and wrapped her arms around his neck. He stumbled back slightly, which hinted that he was slightly inebriated, and wrapped his arms around her.

"It's just fantastic to see you! I can't believe you're here!" She prattled on.

"Dean Thomas brought me here. We're partnered on the same case and we both needed a pick-me-up. It's alright here, isn't it?"

They snatched up a table in a quiet corner and fell into easy conversation, catching up as best they could. It had been a few months since they had seen each other last, Ron busy with his Auror work and Hermione busy with...well Oliver. But they still managed, easily, to slip back into 'best friend mode'. Ron had shifted his chair closer to Hermione's so she could hear him better, and he was resting an arm on the back of her chair. Hermione was glad that their time apart had had no effect on their relationship.

"You know, I didn't think this place was that well known by our kind." He said, after their fourth round of drinks.

"It's not well known, there's only three of us here, Ron."

"No, actually. I saw the twins here too, with Wood. I was hard pressed not to deck him actually, after what he did to Gin. Harry was a right state-"

"Wood? _Oliver _Wood?" She hadn't meant to sound so shrill.

"Yeah, he's over there somewhere." He waved his arm towards the bar. "I asked the twins why they were here, completely ignored the other git, they said they were 'attending to business' whatever that means. Hey! Where are you going?"

Hermione had stood briskly and begun to march towards the bar. Somehow, she just _knew _that her disastrous date was his doing. How is it that he just so happened to be in the same muggle restaurant on the same night as her?

She spotted him lounging on the bar, with a sour look on his face, flanked by the twins. She pushed a bulky man out of her way and yelled,

"OI! WOOD!"

* * *

There was a flaw in his plan. He hadn't expected Ron to show up. Ron had made her completely forget about her anger. When she looked at him, it was like he actually _saw _her frustrations melt away. She was supposed to stay irked off enough so he could swoop in. He had it all planned out. He'd 'bump' into her and be all 'Oh! Fancy seeing you here, what's got yeh in a tizz?' And she would see that he was sober and only in the bar to help the twins apparate home because they were too drunk. She'd see that he was responsible (and not getting into trouble) and she declare that actually, she didn't want to quit, and there was need for a pay rise either. It wasn't the most detailed plan, but he had expected it to be at least a little rewarding.

Unfortunately, Ron had beaten him to the punch. Damn.

He couldn't help but watch them together. The way she lit up when he spoke, or how she looked so content with his arm thrown about her made Oliver feel a little uncomfortable. He didn't like the way he leaned in to talk into ear, or the way she rested her hand lightly on his thigh. He felt something simmer inside him. He wanted to clout the youngest Weasley lad for even touching Hermione.

He wrenched his eyes away from the pair, what was it to him that Hermione was getting chummy with her old mate? Why should he care where she placed her hand? He only wanted her to work for him, nothing more. Hell, the way he'd been treated in the past 24 hours made him wonder if he even _wanted _her back. She was obviously crazy. But he had to admit, at least to himself, that there was something about that fiery temper that drew him to her.

Oliver shook his head, deciding that thought was best left alone.

He was rudely interrupted from his musings by a shout somewhere in the throng of people. It didn't take long for his eyes to narrow in on the tiny brunette.

"OI! WOOD!" Somehow, she looked even more frightening than usual.

* * *

Hermione marched determinedly - and she most certainly did not stumble - toward her target. She had thought that quitting, breaking his nose _and _making him cry would be enough. But no, obviously Oliver-bloody-Wood just couldn't be deterred. She hardly noticed how much bigger than her he was, nor did she see that she had quite the audience. The alcohol that coursed deliciously through her veins was making her courageous. It was time to rid herself of the gigantic pain in that arse that was Oliver Wood.

"Now listen here, sonny!" And no, she was not slurring thank you very much. "I don't know how you did it, but I _know _it was you! Dr. What's-His-Face was a very nice man! I wanted to eat Italian food!" She knew she was somewhat incomprehensible, but she soldiered on. "Now, _mate, _I think we settled this once and for all. Apparently, I can't get through your thick skull to let you know that I. Want. To. Quit. So, I think we should play a game Oliver."

She signaled to the bar tender, and since she had almost everyone's attention, he appeared as if by magic.

"I'd like some shots please. A tray of them, if you will!" The bar tender chuckled, but acquiesced to her request. She turned back to Oliver. "A drinking game!" She yelled. "If I win, you leave me _alone_! You find someone else and we never have to see each other again. If you win-" She paused, still unaware that her audience was listening intently, "I work for you, until you say I can leave. Do we have a deal?"

The shots appeared on a table in front of them. Oliver looked bewildered. He threw a pleading glance at the twins, but both were now too eager to see how this one was going to play out. At least George gave him a sympathetic shrug. He decided that his best way out of this was with mature reasoning.

"No, lass. I donnae think that's a good idea. I thought yeh wanted me t' stay sober?" He smiled, triumphantly. But apparently Hermione was too far gone to give a damn.

"Oh shut up, Oliver. You can't help yourself! Even if you stay sober tonight, you'll just end up harassing another poor girl tomorrow!" She spat.

_Ouch,_ thought Oliver. That had been a low blow. He narrowed his eyes and glared at the girl in front of him. He honestly could not believe that she had challenged _him _to a drinking game. _Have it your way._ He snatched up a shot glass and downed it in one, all the while keeping his eyes set on his challenger.

Hermione gave him a small smile, which looked more like a grimace, and followed his lead. The game had begun.

* * *

Apparently, when two people with an equal penchant for stubbornness play a drinking game, it can go on for an awfully long time. The beginning of their game had been exciting to the other occupants of the bar. The men cheering for Oliver, the women for Hermione. But after thirty minutes their crowd had become less animated, and had drifted to their own devices. Only Ron and the twins now remained.

Ron was pleading with Hermione. "Just give it up, 'Mione! You're going to drink yourself into oblivion in a minute! You can't do this." But instead of having the desired effect, his negative attitude only spurred her on more. She was going to win.

"Ron would you just shuddup please?" She was definitely slurring now, there was no denying it. "Go home to Lav Lav!" She gave an uncharacteristic giggle.

"You know what, fine! I'll leave you to make an even bigger prat out of yourself" He turned to Oliver and the twins. "And you three should be ashamed of yourselves!" And with that, he stormed out.

Hermione hadn't even noticed he was gone.

She was far too busy trying not to throw up. Luckily she had eaten anything for dinner, she reflected sourly. Oliver, however, showed no signs of giving up. He didn't even look all that drunk. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to challenge the burly Scot to a drinking game. Maybe she should have suggested something else. Like a quiz. They could have had those buzzers, and the twins could have officiated and handed out points. She burst into giggles as she pictured the twins hosting a muggle game show.

Oliver was getting slightly worried about Hermione. He was even starting to feel drunk, and he couldn't imagine how far gone she was. He was beginning to think maybe he should throw the game when Hermione started making buzzing noises every time she finished a shot and shouting 'TEN POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR'. But then he remembered what they were playing for, and he'd be damned if he was going to lose.

But what Ron had said had stung him a little bit. It wasn't exactly what he had said, more the fact that it was coming from him. When did _Ron Weasley _become the voice of reason? He decided he'd try to talk her out of it.

"Hermione, I'm thinking it's time yeh went home." He told her. "Yeh cannae drink much more. Yeh're gonna get sick."

"I think Ollie's right, 'Mione. Maybe it's time you just gave up," Fred began.

"Yeah, on the bright side, at least you won't remember losing!" George chuckled.

They watched as she eyed them, suspiciously. "I think-" She swayed slightly on the stop. "-we should have a break! Fresh air!"

And she spun around and marched towards the door. Oliver hastily paid for their copious amount of drinks; he winced slightly at the bill, but left a hefty tip anyway, and quickly followed Hermione and the twins outside.

Hermione had slumped to the floor and was using the wall as support, whilst drunkenly telling the twins off for something none of them could understand.

"Oh! Would you look at the time?" George said through tears of mirth. "We must be off! Early morning tomorrow and all that!"

"George is right, of course. We need our beauty sleep!" And with that the twins disappeared with a loud crack, leaving Oliver alone with a terribly drunk Hermione.

"Oh, Christ!" He mumbled. He really didn't want to deal with this. The crisp air outside, paired with the responsibility of getting Hermione home, had him sobering right quick. He glanced down at her and saw that she had drifted off into a fitfully sleep. Deciding it best to get her inside he lifted her up to her feet.

"Hermione! Oi! Wake up! I need t' take yeh home! Do yeh have yer keys?" She shook her slightly.

"Oh! Morning Oliver. I really hate your accent..." And before he could do anything, she leant forward and planted a wet and sloppy kiss on his lips.

Oliver found himself responding to it, a little too eagerly. He opened his mouth against hers and almost - very nearly almost - got lost in her. Until she bit his tongue, snorted and promptly fell asleep against his face.

Oliver chuckled. He lifted her gently kissed her on the forehead and apparated to Grimmauld Place. If anyone knew what to do with a drunk Hermione, it was Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry I'm so lousy at updating! But just know I love all of my reviewers and I hope that this makes up for it. I'm not sure if I'm happy with this chapter, but I really wanted to update!**

**On another note, I noticed some atrocious spelling mistakes and grammatical errors in my last chapter and I would really love it if someone could beta this. I already had a beta, amazing as she was, she was too busy. But if anyone has any interest, please send me a message!** **Thanks for reviewing you guys! I love you all!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Here it is, lovelies! Chapter ten at last! Sorry for all these crazy delays! I'm not sure if I'll ever be in a position to update on a regular basis, but I'm trying my best! Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! Without you guys, I wouldn't ever find the motivation to keep writing!**

* * *

Hermione awoke in the guest bedroom of the Potter household with a pounding headache, a dry mouth and a churning stomach. Her first thought was; _Why? _

However, it all came back to her on her mad dash to the toilet. Oliver, the Twins, the shots and- _Oh crap_!- The bet.

The stupid bloody bet which she unarguably and without a doubt had lost. Because winners couldn't possibly feel this terrible in the morning. The night may have been a fuzzy blur to her, but the bet was not. She had lost and now she once again worked for Oliver bloody Wood.

She would never escape him. She would work for him until one of them died. And the thought of bumping off Oliver Wood slightly cheered her as she expelled the poison she had irresponsibly consumed the night before.

* * *

"Well good afternoon you bloody drunkard!" Harry boomed cheerfully when Hermione finally dragged herself into the kitchen.

"Harry, if you loved me at all you'd get me a cup of tea and some hangover potion. You would also do it quietly." She groaned as she plopped herself onto one of the battered kitchen chairs.

"Already got it for you, 'Mione." Ginny chuckled as she set two mugs in front of her. "Rough night?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Gin." Hermione chugged the potion and washed it down with about half a mug of tea. "Just out of curiosity, how did I end up _here_?"

"A very apologetic Wood dropped you off, actually." Harry explained. "Said something about a drinking game gone awry and a massive bill. All after he apologised profusely for snogging Gin and telling me I could punch him in the face."

"You bloody well should have!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I did." Harry chuckled. "Broke his nose! Ginny had to fix it before we sent him to bed."

"Wait, sent him to bed? As in sent him to bed here?" Hermione glanced around the kitchen, as if Oliver would pop out from under the table.

"Well, yeah. We let him stay the night. He was rather trolleyed when he arrived. We couldn't let him apparate home. He's still in bed actually."

* * *

Waking up has always been one of Oliver's least favourite activities. Usually because it meant having to leave very pleasant dreams and face very harsh realities. But for some reason, this morning was different.

It could have been the mouthwatering smell of buttery toast. Or maybe the soft hand that was gently shaking him awake. But what he really thought it was, was the sweet voice pulling him into consciousness.

"Oliver? Ollie? It's time to wake up now." The voice cooed.

He cracked an eyelid to peek up at the owner of said voice. It was Hermione, and she looked like crap.

"Morning love, yeh look terrible. I'd prefer teh' keep me eyes closed if tha's alright." He croaked. Apparently this was a mistake.

"Shut up! Get out of bed you lazy arse! It's almost one in the afternoon!" In a split second Hermione's voice changed from a gentle coo to a shrill bark. "I made you tea, you bloody idiot!"

Not sensing he had much of a choice, Oliver heaved himself into a sitting position and snatched the tea from her hands.

He watched her as he took a long sip. Her eyes instantly dove south and locked onto his chest.

"Did yeh want somethin'? Or did yeh just wanna oggle my chest?" Oliver thoroughly enjoyed the blush that spread across Hermione's cheeks as her eyes snapped up to meet his.

"Oh shut up." She snapped. "Anyway, I was hoping we could have a little chat."

He was amazed at how fast her voice changed. She was back to cooing again. Oliver's eyes narrowed suspiciously. She was up to something.

"A chat about what, exactly?" He asked, carefully.

"Well, last night actually. I was slightly intoxicated-"

"Lass, yeh were smashed." Oliver interrupted. Hermione huffed.

"Yes well, alright I was drunk. But anyway, I just wanted to go over a few things. That is if you don't mind of course." She gave him a sweet smile.

_Of course! _Oliver thought._ She's trying to get out of our bet_. Well that was most definitely not happening!

"It's obvious what yeh want 'Mione. Yeh're tryin' teh get outta the bet. And I cannae let yeh I'm afraid!  
I won tha' bet fair an' square. Yeh work for me until I say so. I believe those were yeh'r exact words, actually."

Hermione's face fell instantaneously.

"Stop being a bloody git, Wood!"

"Oh, it's Wood now is it?"

"Yes! It is! I was drunk last night Oliver! We should at least discuss the details! The 'until you say so' part is ridiculous and we both know it! At least give me a time frame. How about a month?

"Absolutely not! Yeh lost the bet an' yeh work for me until I say so! That's that!" He leant back agaisnt his pillows, satisfied. "Now, 'Mione, how about another kiss, aye?" He winked.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione spluttered indignantly. "Absolutely not! And what on earth do you mean 'another one'? There wasn't a first one!"

"Yeh don't remember? Well I'd wannae forget too if it were me! It was terrible! I thought yeh might wannae redeem yourself!"

Oliver enjoyed watching her turn red and splutter at him. It was rather funny to watch Hermione lose control. What wasn't funny, however, was having Hermione flip his tea from his hand and having it spill on to his lap.

He jumped up with a very undignified shriek and wiped wildly at the tops of his thighs. Why was it every time he was around Hermione he got hurt. He'd had more injuries recently than in his entire Quidditch career.

"Are yeh bloody crazy, woman?" He yelled at her. "What in Merlin's name is wrong with yeh?"

"I am not crazy, Wood!" Hermione was stood up now, and advancing on him fast. "I'm just driven to do crazy things every time I'm around you! It's entirely your own fault!"

"Well, I think yeh're bloody nuts! And yeh've always been nuts!"

"NO. I. AM. NOT!" She shrieked at him.

By now they were merely inches apart. And, for some ungodly reason, Oliver admired her in this moment. She stood in front of him, all five foot nothing of her, her chest heaving, her hair wild and her face flushed with anger giving as good as she got. Although he'd never admit it, to anyone, she was rather beautiful.

Before he could see reason and stop himself, Oliver pulled her in for a kiss.

* * *

Hermione was shocked.

She had expected him to shout, to throw a fit, maybe even hit her. But he threw her entirely by kissing her. And, to her dismay, he wasn't half bad.

His mouth was soft, and he tasted like tea. Before she knew it, she found herself responding, far too eagerly fr her liking.

Her hands buried themselves deeply into his hair, pulling him closer, and she kissed him back hard.

His hands slid around her waist and he pivoted her towards to bed. The backs of her knees hit the edge and she toppled backwards. He followed her down, their mouths never separating.

The kiss was turning into something more. Something much, much more. Hermione found that she couldn't stop. She couldn't understand the logic behind it. Why on earth was she kissing him so enthusiastically? She hated him! But he felt so _good_! She had never been kissed like this before. It was passionate, and breathtaking, and it sent delicious feelings pooling across her body.

Oliver was the first to pull away. He tilted his forehead to rest on hers and whispered, ever so softly.

"What are yeh doing to me?"

The separation was all it took. She just needed that one break for her brain to kickstart. For reason to override the fabulous burn she felt. She pushed him solidly in the chest and he rolled off of her immediately.

"Wha's wrong?" The look her gave her, all wide eyes and confusion, made her feel wretched.

"I-I'm not..-It's just-" She jumped off the bed and dashed to the door. She turned to look at him and gave him a weak smile. "I really don't think that this is appropriate."

And with that she was gone. She fled down the stairs, shouted a quick thanks to Harry and Ginny, and apparated as soon as her feet hit the concrete porch.

* * *

Oliver sighed and flopped back against the pillows. No woman had ever run from him before. It made him want her more. His brain was full of jumbled thoughts about Hermione now. He needed to sort it out, fast. But first he needed a cold shower.

* * *

**A/N: So it hasn't been beta'd because I'm still looking for a beta. Again, if anyone's interested just send me a private message! What did you think? Gimme some feedback! xxx**


End file.
